


deluge

by tealady19



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Post-Episode: s02e08 The Blade of Marmora, Pre-Slash, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24059614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealady19/pseuds/tealady19
Summary: Keith’s attention seems to be reserved for the knife still sitting in his lap.  His right hand clenches around it periodically, usually drawing a soft hiss as he remembers his shoulder.  A quick glance at Coran shows that the older man can’t seem to find it in himself to chide him for moving, and to be fair, neither can Shiro.  He just brushes Keith’s hair off his neck with his free hand, strokes his thumb there in a meagre attempt to provide comfort.Shiro tries his best to deal with the aftermath of Keith's trials, but there's only so much time before the battle with Zarkon begins.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 161





	deluge

**Author's Note:**

> A slight detour from my usual fluff genre, but I wanted to try out something different. And also tackle something during s2! They have so much potential, wow. 
> 
> Super huge thank you to [perfectlyrose](http://www.twitter.com/LionessNapping) and [lifeaftermeteor](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/lifeaftermeteor) for reading this over and removing the thousand extraneous commas <3

Keith’s refusing to go into a healing pod, and Shiro can’t exactly blame him. While it did heal his own glowing wound a few months ago, the crawling trapped feeling and the inescapable nightmares aren’t something he’s ever really prepared to repeat. Shiro can’t push Keith into one unless he’s literally about to die.

So Keith sits, shivering, on a medical table in the infirmary, holding Shiro’s hand and letting Coran set about healing the deep gash in his shoulder. It’s the worst of all his physical wounds, deep enough that when they first peeled his undersuit off Keith’s shoulders, Shiro had seen a flash of bone through the torn flesh. The compression of the suit had been keeping it from bleeding out, but they had to work quickly once it was exposed.

Coran has a tool in hand, some Altean thing that negates the need for stitches. It’s spreading what looks like a thick version of liquid bandage over the wound, and Coran has assured them it has a numbing agent inside. He’ll cover the seal with cloth bandages after, and they’ll immobilise the arm in a sling for a few hours, but it’s still a far cry faster than any Earth medical techniques. Shiro’s been hospitalised enough times to know.

He’s exhausted. They both are. Keith keeps his head down, hair falling around his face and refusing to look either of them in the eye. His grip on Shiro’s hand is tight, like he’s scared Shiro with just...what, let go and leave the room? 

Well, that’s exactly what his hologram did - what Keith imagined he would do. 

Shiro will never leave him again. 

Keith’s attention seems to be reserved for the knife still sitting in his lap. His right hand clenches around it periodically, usually drawing a soft hiss as he remembers his shoulder. A quick glance at Coran shows that the older man can’t seem to find it in himself to chide him for moving, and to be fair, neither can Shiro. He just brushes Keith’s hair off his neck with his free hand, strokes his thumb there in a meagre attempt to provide comfort.

“I think that will do you, Number Four,” Coran says softly, breaking the silence of the room while securing the end of the bandage. “Let’s just get this in a sling and have you off to rest.”

Shiro’s thankful Coran hasn’t reacted strongly, or even really at all, when Kolivan had off-handedly mentioned Keith’s Galra heritage during their meetings. It had shocked everyone into silence, including Keith who had probably been planning to tell them a little less blatantly. Unfortunately, what’s done is done, and the reactions of the other paladins wasn’t something Keith could really cope with, so they’d broken into smaller groups to continue planning, while Shiro and Coran took him to get checked out.

The sling is the work of minutes, and Shiro gently pries the knife from Keith’s fingers so they can get his arm in the right position. He makes sure to keep it in his line of sight until the sling is fastened and Coran pats him lightly on the upper arm.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” he murmurs and hands Shiro a jar of salve for the bruising. He’s gone in the next breath, and Shiro is alone with Keith still shivering on the bed.

“Hey, buddy,” Shiro whispers, squeezing Keith’s hand. He manages to lift hazy eyes up to Shiro’s face, but can’t seem to return Shiro’s attempt at a comforting smile. “Let’s go back to your room, get you warmed up.”

Keith swallows and then gives a jerky nod, bracing himself to get off the bed. The last few vargas are catching up with him. He looks like he’s going to fall asleep on his feet.

Shiro’s muscles ache from his disease catching up to the stress of the last two days. Shiro’s right wrist feels like it’s on fire, screaming with phantom pain, but fuck if he’s going to tell anyone. He’s half-worried he’s going to drop Keith when he helps him to his feet, but he pushes through. Together they manage to stand and then shuffle their way out of the room and into the corridor. The further they get the more Keith leans heavily on him, trusting Shiro’s steadying arm around his waist. 

But then Keith stops as they’re passing Shiro’s door. “Can I-” he starts, voice cracking. It’s the first thing he’s said in hours. “Can I-”

He can’t seem to get the rest of the question out, but Shiro reaches over to unlock the door to his room and Keith slumps, relieved.

“Of course, Keith. Whatever you want.”

Shiro bypasses the bed and takes them into the adjoining small bathroom. He doesn’t have any of Keith’s clothes in here but he does have an extra pair of soft pants and a robe he can tie around the immobilised arm, enough to keep him warm while he sleeps. He’ll grab those in a minute, once he gets Keith undressed.

Shiro props Keith against the sink in the bathroom for a moment, just long enough to finish stripping off his undersuit. The thin cotton boxer briefs he’s wearing underneath aren’t the most modest, but Shiro doesn’t think Keith's paying any attention to how he looks right now. He throws the dirty garment into the corner to deal with later.

Keith’s grip on the sink is tight, but Shiro manages to pry him away and sit him down on the edge of the tub. It’s only a couple of steps, but Keit’s knees give out as he’s turning to sit, and Shiro ends up guiding him down to perch beside him. Keith exhales a long breath and hangs his head, looking dizzy from the abrupt movement. Shiro tries to run a soothing hand over his back but has to pull away when he hits a tender bruise and Keith hisses.

Instead, Shiro rests his hand on a marginally unbruised part of Keith’s knee and reaches across the narrow space of the bathroom to set the jar of healing salve on the counter. He lays Keith’s knife on the floor where it’s out of the way, but close enough that Keith can still see that it’s safe. Hands freed, Shiro plugs the sink and lets warm water fill the basin as he turns on the tap. There’s a stack of clean washcloths beside the sink, so Shiro grabs one and soaks it. Gently, he takes Keith’s left hand to clean, leaving the one in the sling for later.

There’s blood and dirt caked under the nails and set into the creases of his joints, but Shiro works it out with slow swipes of the cloth. He uses his own blunt nails to clean Keith’s, and takes extra care around bruised, split swells of his knuckles.

Some of the calluses on Keith’s palm are torn as he turns his hand over, and his fingers twitch with little jolts of pain when Shiro cleans them with the cloth. He spreads salve carefully over the open sores and then with more gentle pressure as he massages Keith’s palm. He works slowly, pushing tension out from the centre to the edges.

It’s on one of these deep, pressing sweeps from the centre of Keith’s palm over the tense muscles in the heel of his hand that Keith suddenly bursts into tears.

It surprises both of them. Shiro jerks his head up, concern washing across his face. Keith seems just as shocked and tries to raise his hand to cover his mouth, but Shiro holds onto it tight. Instead, he cups his left hand around the back of Keith’s neck, threading through his long hair and pulling his forehead to rest against Shiro’s shoulder. His right thumb keeps sweeping over Keith’s trembling palm.

Shiro doesn't tell him it’ll be okay. He's had too many people tell him that in his life and so often they’d just been pandering and insincere. Instead, he gets the rest of his human arm around Keith’s back, holding him securely.

“I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe here,” Shiro whispers against Keith’s temple. The startled tears seem to be stopping as quickly as they started but the trembling stays, more pronounced than the shivering in infirmary. Keith stays pressed into Shiro’s shoulder for a little while longer.

He can’t reach the slung arm like this but it matters less than calming Keith down. He works his way over the cuts and bruises he can reach, alternating with the warm cloth and the healing salve. Keith stays as close as he can, still quiet. Shiro can’t imagine what’s going through his head right now, but he’s not sure he’d have the confidence to speak if their places were reversed. The memory of waking up terrified in Keith’s desert shack rises up, how Keith had helped him put himself back together, and Shiro thinks maybe he can understand a little.

His heart breaks when he washes over Keith’s shoulder blades and feels him doing the breathing exercises Shiro had taught him when he was a cadet. They feel practiced, unconscious, like Keith does them regularly. He’d barely needed to use them in the months before the launch, but now here they are again. Keith’s probably been using the techniques the entire time they’ve been on the castleship and for who knows how long before that. 

Thinking about the time Keith spent in the desert, when everyone else had given up on him, tightens the angry knot in Shiro’s chest but he pushes that aside to deal with later. He’s got a lot of emotions to deal with after these two days of fresh trauma - anger, guilt, hurt. He can’t say it doesn’t sting, that Keith never told him about that knife. 

But he’d kept his disease from the cadet as long as possible - probably hadn’t ever planned to tell him until Keith forced it out of him before the launch. Who is he to tell Keith how to trust? They’re figuring it out as they go.

Keith’s calmer by the time Shiro finishes with his back and hips, and the scratches on his left thigh that he can reach. He sits back, sighs, turns his face to Shiro’s. His eyes are mostly dry but Shiro still raises a hand to wipe the tear tracks from his cheeks. He looks exhausted.

“Sorry,” Keith whispers. “Didn’t know I was gonna do that.” He starts to shrug his shoulders, but winces and tries to relax them. There must still be some sensation even with the numbing gel bandage.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Shiro strokes his thumb over Keith’s cheekbone, feeling him lean into the touch. “We’re almost done, then we can sleep. We’ll wash your hair tomorrow. That sound good?” 

Keith nods, even manages a tiny smile that Shiro is helpless to return. Between the two of them, they get Keith into a pair of soft pants, Shiro having to tie the drawstring extra tight so they don’t fall off his hips. He gets his free arm through the robe and then lets Shiro tie it around his waist, folding around the slung right arm. The hem of the sleeve reaches almost to the tips of his fingers.

Shiro sits on the edge of the bed as Keith settles in, helping him to lie down when the whole only having one arm thing gets frustrating. Shiro can sort of relate - the first few days he had the prosthetic, it was clunky and wouldn’t immediately respond to his commands, but Shiro’s glad Keith doesn’t have to experience the pain of learning how to use that new limb.

“Stay?” Keith asks, when he’s got his head on the pillow and his eyes are drooping. It’s the first thing he’s asked for since they came back.

Shiro sits beside him, one hand brushing through his hair, and Keith drops off quickly after that. He snores softly, Shiro notices, smiling and filing that tidbit away.

It’s not until later, with Keith tucked against his hip as he scrolls through a castle datapad, that Shiro realises the phantom pain in his wrist is gone.

***

The morning alarm startles Shiro awake, which unfortunately doesn’t do anything for his nerves. The datapad with the beeping alarm falls out of his fingers, clattering to the floor. It vibrates angrily a few times before Shiro can make his frozen muscles move to turn it off.

The silence is stark in the room and he lies back on the bed, one hand pressed against his chest. His heart is racing. Normally the alarm doesn’t scare him, but he also normally doesn’t fall asleep with it in his hand. 

He also isn’t normally this warm in bed.

He puts everything together - remembering yesterday’s events - just a fraction before a soft huffing laugh has him turning over. Keith’s awake, probably also startled by the alarm since his eyes are still a little sleep hazy. But he’s got the smallest twist of a smile on his lips and he seems a little brighter than last night.

“Sleep okay?”

“Hm, I guess. Wake up okay?”

“You brat-” Shiro shoves lightly at him, getting another huffing laugh, but he does recognise the deflection when he sees it. He’ll get back on track, but best to play to Keith’s wishes until he’s a little more willing. Shiro rolls onto one side, propping his head on one hand.

“Ready for a shower? And then breakfast.”

Keith wrinkles his nose. “A shower sounds good.” He doesn’t comment on breakfast. Well, it’s somewhere to start. “Coran said these bandages are waterproof, right? So I can take the sling off?”

“If you think you want to. It’s been-” Shiro does some quick math. He’d noted the time last night when Keith had passed out. “-about twelve vargas, so the bandage is probably doing it’s job. If you think you can move it without pain, then I’d say yeah, just be careful. Move slow.”

“I slept for twelve vargas?” Keith’s already tugging at the knot of the sling and probably hadn’t really listened to Shiro after he’d essentially said yes. Shiro sighs.

“You probably could have slept longer if that alarm didn’t go off. You needed it.”

Keith’s further nose wrinkle tells him all he needs to know about that statement. He manages to tug the sling off, but Shiro gets a hand around his upper arm before he can be too rough with himself.

“Take it easy, buddy. You were pretty banged up yesterday. Last thing we want to do is make it worse.” Shiro keeps his hold gentle, tries to be soothing. Keith’s always been rough with himself, but today seems worse. It makes Shiro want to be gentle with him in so many ways and he finds his thumb stroking the soft skin of Keith’s arm before he can help it.

Speaking of being gentle, Shiro remembers his offer from last night.

“Do you want me to help you with your hair? Or I can wait here for you.”

Keith bites his lip. He looks like he wants to say something, but isn’t sure if he’ll be allowed. It was a common expression when he was a cadet - Shiro hates how much he looks like that wary teen again. “Whatever makes it easier for you, Keith. I want to help you.”

“Can you just - um. Can you just talk to me? While I’m in?”

Keith wants to hear just about anything Shiro’s willing to ramble about. He manages to get himself out of the clothes, though he does grab Shiro’s arm when stepping out of the loose pants puddled around his feet. Shiro tells him about flying his first mission to Mars, one of the first where he was in charge, and how he’d almost made himself panic over space dust in the middle of the flight home.

He talks about living with his grandfather in the Bay Area when he was a kid. He used to spend so much time with him in his gardens and it was a shock getting used to the desert of the Garrison. He gets Keith to laugh a little at that, desert boy that he is. Keith seems to be doing okay under the spray, and Shiro won’t breach this barrier unless he’s in danger of falling.

It’s important to both of them that he has some independance right now. But Shiro is so honoured to be allowed to see him at his most vulnerable.

The shower shuts off as Shiro is describing the chrysanthemums his grandfather used to grow, and Keith moves the curtain back with a shaky hand. He’s holding his other arm carefully to his chest, and his brow is furrowed in concentration. Shiro holds out the towel for him to step into, and he does, almost falling into Shiro’s chest rather than taking it from him.

“Hey, hey, you did good.” Keith sighs as Shiro rubs the towel along his arms. “Feeling okay?”

“‘m a little dizzy,” he confesses, not meeting Shiro’s eyes. “Arm hurts.”

At least he’s talking. “Those are two things I can do something about. Let’s get you dried off and dressed and take some of the weird blue painkillers. Then we’ll see about getting you something to eat.”

Keith groans into his chest. “Not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten in over a day. You’re dizzy because you need food, whether you’re hungry or not.”

Shiro has learned over their years of friendship that Keith is really good at making a put-upon sigh, like he does right now. He angles his head up to pout at Shiro - though he’ll insist he isn’t - and Shiro just laughs softly, smoothing his wet bangs away from his face. “I promise you’ll feel better if you eat.”

“Fine.”

***

With the mission timetable moved up due to radio silence from Kolivan’s operative, there’s not a lot of time to linger in their rooms. He gets Keith to swallow the painkillers and leaves him in his room to finish drying his hair while Shiro grabs his clothes from next door. He’s still blotting water from the ends when Shiro returns, but between the two of them they get themselves put together.

Keith’s shrinking though, on the walk to the kitchen.

Normally it wouldn’t be an issue. Keith usually hangs back from the rest no matter how much Shiro tries to facilitate new friendships. It’s a point of frustration, to be perfectly honest, because he knows it will be harder for Keith to lead the team when he’s gone if he doesn’t have a stable bond with them.

However, today’s not the day to deal with this, so Shiro wraps an arm around Keith’s shoulders and tries to give him a little extra strength. It won’t be so bad.

The chatter in the kitchen goes silent the moment they walk in.

It’s only for a split-second and then the conversation resumes, but it’s enough. Shiro’s ninety percent sure that if he wasn’t holding physically into Keith, he’d have bolted, dizziness and malnourishment be damned.

Shiro leads them to the unoccupied end of the table, a few seats down from everyone else. He’s trying more to present a united front, rather than isolating themselves. He hopes it’s working.

The others give their good mornings, sounding very much to Shiro like it’s a regular day, but he knows Keith won’t hear it that way. He’s looking for every slight waver or change in behaviour to prove his difference - he did this before too, as a cadet, and then would blow up at Shiro when he pointed it out, convinced he wasn’t liked.

And maybe Keith’s attitude back then didn’t gather him many friends, but it wasn’t like he was some kind of monster. Just a misunderstood kid.

Exactly as he is right now, though grown.

Hunk peels away from the group to come up to them in person, leaning over the table on his elbows. Shiro greets him with a smile, and Keith does meet his eyes, tentatively.

“Hey! Morning, you two. Hungry? Two breakfasts are coming right up!” Hunk turns away to fetch them their plates and then pauses, looking back over his shoulder. “You can eat that, right?”

Keith looks startled. “What?”

“I mean, you’re not allergic to anything because you’re Galra now, right?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Shiro sees Allura roll her eyes. Coran asks her a question before she can say anything, but Keith’s already read the atmosphere. The damage has been done.

And, okay, it’s kind that Hunk is demonstrating concern over Keith and potential new dietary restrictions, but. This has got to be the most inappropriate time.

“Nothing about Keith has changed,” Shiro tells him, voice frostier than it probably should be based on Hunk’s wince. He can’t quite bring himself to care at this moment. “We’ve eaten this for months, Hunk, no issues. Why would anything change now?”

“No, no, you’re right, sorry Shiro.” Hunk wrings his hands a little, looking contrite, and hurries off to grab them some food. He’s gone before Shiro can correct him, that _Hey, it’s Keith you should be apologising to, not me._

“You don’t need to do that,” Keith says quietly beside him, rubbing his still sore arm. Shiro sits back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and feeling mulish.

“I think I fuckin’ do.”

That gets a soft laugh out of Keith and when Shiro looks over, there’s a tiny smile turning up the corners of his mouth. It’s a welcome sight.

“You never swear, what’s going on?”

Shiro huffs. “I’m an adult, I can do what I want.”

Keith’s little smile stays on his face, so Shiro plays along, slouching further into his seat.

“Are you though? I know when your birthday is, Shirogane.”

Shiro sticks his tongue out at him and Keith has to quickly cover his mouth to keep from laughing too loudly. Shiro grins at him.

“Hey, that’s better!” Hunk smiles at both of them and sets down two plates of goo. “Okay, tell me if something tastes weird, or if you need something different.” He steps back and puts his hands on his hips. “Geez, my grandma would be so disappointed in me, you’re way too skinny, Keith.”

He’s not, but the gentle tease makes Keith smile a little and Shiro’s relieved to see the others treating Keith like a normal person again. Unfortunately, the moment breaks when Allura huffs and stands abruptly from the table.

“I’ll be on the bridge. We still haven’t finished planning our attack on Zarkon, and we don’t have time for useless chatter.”

The good mood in the air between them dissipates as Allura turns sharply on her heel, long hair billowing out behind her. Keith shrinks again, pushing his food around his plate, but not actually taking a bite. Shiro sighs.

“Hey,” he says, turning to Keith again and trying to ignore the atmosphere. “I know you love flying, but don’t make me take your spoon and bust out the airplane to get you to eat.”

Keith looks at him, blankly.

“That’s a joke, Keith.”

Keith stares at him, but drags a spoonful of goo to his mouth and eats it. Finally.

“Shiro, after breakfast, let’s meet on the bridge and hash out the rest of the tasks for today. You got my ping last night, I assume?” Coran twirls his moustache as he addresses him, blue eyes keen. He looks apologetic for Allura’s behaviour. Coran had told him last night that he’d handle the princess, but Shiro is going to have words with her himself if this attitude continues, no matter what anyone’s status is.

“I did, thanks Coran. I’ll meet you up there once we’re done here.” The older man nods and then takes his leave of the table.

The other three paladins are sitting on the opposite end, currently involved in some loud discussion about Killbot something-or-other video game that Pidge would probably have a hernia about if she found out that Shiro didn’t know anything about, but their loudness gives a sense of privacy.

Keith’s still methodically eating, thank goodness, though slowly. At least the food goo is delicate enough on their systems to make it easy to digest - something Shiro is grateful for. His own meal is finished quicker, since he still hasn’t been able to decide if the weird algae taste of the goo is good or not.

Whatever Hunk’s done to the stores, it’s leagues better than when they first arrived on the castleship. Still kind of bland, still kind of algae, but much more palatable. Beside him, Keith’s finishing the last of his breakfast and his colour looks a lot better than it had after his shower this morning.

With breakfast finished, they’ll have to head to their separate duties today. Shiro can’t spend more time with him, even though he really wishes he could. But he can help Keith not spend the entire time sulking in his room, or worsening his injuries by trying to train.

“Why don’t you go do some of those stretches I taught you? _Don’t_ activate the bot-” Keith’s face twists and Shiro knows he was going to do it. “-I’ll know if you do. Just stretch, take your time. And then go check on Red after, see how she’s doing. She probably misses you.”

Keith sighs but agrees. “Let me know when you’re done?”

“Yeah,” Shiro confirms, laying a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “I’ll let you know as soon as I’m free.”

***

Allura’s refusal to talk about Keith and sometimes forgetting to actually include him in making plans - or worse, speculate that he and the Blade of Marmora weren’t to be explicitly trusted - had grated on Shiro’s nerves so badly that he’d been more standoffish than usual. It’s been a long time since he’d last had to sit through a shitty meeting like that and it wasn’t something he’d like to repeat any time soon. They did make headway on how to proceed, though, and they have a lot of the pieces put together. They’ll reconvene with Kolivan and the rest of the Blades in person tomorrow morning for the last details and finalisation, but they’re almost there.

Despite her breakfast announcement of “wasting time chatting”, Allura has agreed that taking the rest of the day off would be more productive - a last afternoon to rest before the work begins tomorrow. Shiro thus takes a few minutes to stop by Black’s hangar before going to find his team. Being near the Lion usually calms him and so he takes a few minutes to gather himself with Black’s steady comfort.

Black’s deep rumble fills his mind, washing over him like a cool ocean. Shiro stands by her paw, eyes closed and palms pressed flat to the metal. He’s not sure if it’s something she’s doing, but unlike most objects he touches, the feeling of her plating is the same for both hands. With his eyes closed, it’s almost like he’s whole again.

Without realising it, he’s bent over a little, leaning forward to rest his forehead against her in supplication. He needs the strength to get through the next few days: to lead the team, to win the battle, to deal with the consequences of winning. To help Keith. To hold on, just a little longer.

His body doesn’t hurt when he’s here, in this mindspace with her, and it’s the only time it doesn’t.

He must spend more time there than he’d anticipated, because the hangar door is opening before he realises it and Keith is striding across the floor. He definitely doesn’t look as rested as Shiro had hoped he’d be. Instead he looks agitated, like he’s ready to pick a fight.

Shiro can feel the good mood he’d started to gather from Black’s presence dissipate. He really, really loves Keith, but he’s also exhausted and stressed and, admittedly, anxious about the coming days. The last thing he wants to do is fight with Keith. He’d much rather just hug him and pass out on his bed, but the energy crackling around the younger man tells him he’s not going to get that just yet.

“I thought you were gonna tell me when you were done!”

Shiro blows out a breath, slowly, trying to release his temper before it gets the better of him. He leans back against Black’s leg, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I was, Keith. I needed-”

“I was waiting for you!”

“I know you were, I’m sorry-”

“The others don’t want me around, what am I supposed to do?!”

“Keith-”

“I thought you wanted-”

_“Keith!”_

Keith stops, wide-eyed. The reverberating clang of Shiro’s metal fist hitting the lion’s paw sits heavy in the air. There’s a beat of silence and then Keith takes a step back, shoulders hiking towards his ears. All the frustration leaves Shiro in a rush.

“Shit, Keith, I’m sorry. I’m stressed and I took it out on you, and that’s not fair.” Shiro reaches out his human hand, hoping Keith will take it and not run.

He does. Tentatively at first, but his grip is strong, and he lets Shiro tug him into sitting next to Black’s sturdy paw. They rest their backs against it but Keith won’t meet Shiro’s eyes. He tries to catch his gaze for a bit but eventually leaves it, leaning his head back with a dull thump. He’s still holding Keith’s hand though, and laces their fingers together. 

Keith doesn’t protest. In fact, it looks like he’s relaxing despite having dragged his knees to his chest.

“Talk to me, Keith,” Shiro whispers into the wide space between them.

Keith’s fingers tighten in Shiro’s grip. “The others don’t want me here.”

“That’s not true.”

Keith huffs, humourlessly. _“Allura_ doesn’t want me here.”

There’s not really anything he can say against that. “I... yeah, we had a fight about that in the meeting.”

Keith looks up, surprised. He’s finally meeting his eyes. “Really?”

Shiro strokes his thumb over Keith’s. “Is it that far-fetched that I’d stand up for you?”

“After everything you’ve been through... And now I’m - I’m Galra, too?”

“Keith,” Shiro turns his head, still leaning back against Black. “You’re the same Keith you’ve always been.”

He huffs again. “I don’t feel like it.”

“Well then, you’ll just have to trust me.” Shiro shifts his hand a little, untangling his fingers and then hooking Keith’s pinky in his own. “I promise you that the only important thing that’s changed is that I’m even more proud of you now.” He tugs on their joined pinkies for emphasis. Keith starts to turn red, but a small smile is also growing on his face.

“Shiro!”

“I’m serious, Keith.” And he is - these last few weeks have been tough, especially on him, and he’s handled it really well. “I did want to apologise though,” Shiro continues, voice low as he tightens his grip on Keith’s pinky.

“Shiro, you don’t need to apologise to me.”

He sighs, looking softly at Keith who’s turned to face him. “Yeah, I do. I was hurt when I realised you’d never told me about that knife, and I was angry at you about it too. I thought if you’d trusted me you should have told me, but then I remembered that I’d never really planned on telling you about-”

“About your disease,” Keith whispers. “I don’t blame you for that. And I’m sorry I forced it out of you like that, barging up to you on the tarmac. That wasn’t what a friend should do.”

“It’s okay,” Shiro says. “It’s actually a blessing that you know, now. But yeah, I realised that if I was holding that secret, and felt right in doing so, then I have no basis to judge you on doing the same. You shouldn’t ever feel obligated to tell me anything, Keith. But at the same time, I’m alway here for you to talk to.”

Keith smiles at him, soft and a little sad. “Thanks, Shiro. Same.”

Their joined pinkies lie together between them as they fall quiet for a few minutes, just breathing in time to the motions of the castle. It’s a while before Keith speaks again.

“You really got in a fight with Allura?”

It startles a laugh out of Shiro. “Well, almost. That meeting was shit, even if we did get a lot of pieces sorted out.”

It startles a little laugh out of Keith. “I’m gonna tell everyone you swear.”

Shiro looks mock-offended. “And ruin my reputation? Keith, how dare you.”

He laughs again, and it’s good to see him smiling.

“We’re planning on regrouping with Kolivan in the morning, and then we’ll get things underway. It sucks that we’ll have to split the team up a little to get everything done with our narrowed window, but it is what it is.”

“Split up?”

Shiro nods, looking back up to where Black is standing sentinel over them. He misses Keith’s confused expression.

“Unfortunately we don’t have time for the whole team to go together, and we can’t be in four places at once. We’ve got a pretty straightforward mission for you and Hunk, shouldn’t bother any lingering injuries, you’ll be back with us in no ti-”

 _“What?”_ His hand is pulling away from Shiro’s and Keith’s standing, backing up a few steps. “What do you mean, I’m going with Hunk. You’re not coming?”

Shiro follows him, reaching for him again but Keith moves out of the way. “I’m needed elsewhere. You work well with Hunk, and you can trust him. He’s your teammate.”

“They don’t want anything to do with me!”

“Keith, that’s not true.” He tries again and manages to snag Keith’s hand. It’s shaking again in his grasp. “You saw them looking out for you at breakfast, right? They care. You’ll be safe together.”

“They just keep _asking me questions!”_ He bursts out. _“I don’t know_ what it’s like to be a Blade of Marmora, or what technology they used to build the base, or whether - whether Galra are allergic to anything! How can I know that?!”

“Hey,” Shiro soothes but Keith isn’t listening yet. It’s a miracle he’s letting Shiro still hold onto him.

“They don’t want to know anything about me. It’s always the mission, or the war, or whatever! No one cares about me, I’m never anyone’s priority!”

“Hey, _hey,_ no, listen to me.” Shiro moves, twisting around until he’s facing the other man and taking his face in his hands. He swipes at Keith’s cheekbones with his thumbs and looks him straight in the eye. “You have always been my first priority.”

Keith sucks in a tight breath, eyelashes quivering, eyes growing wet but he doesn’t look away.

“You’ve always been my first priority. And that won’t ever change, no matter what galaxy we’re in, what lion we’re flying, what war we’re fighting. I want you to be safe, and I want you to be happy.” He’s not quite finished saying what he needs to say, what he needs Keith to hear, but Keith is closing his eyes, brow pinched. Before Shiro can ask if he’s okay, he’s tipping forward into Shiro’s shoulder.

He rests there for a moment before Shiro’s shifting him into a more comfortable position, arms coming up around his back and tucking Keith’s face into the crook of his neck. His shuddering breaths even out there after a few moments.

“You’re my best friend, Keith. You deserve to be first.” _I love you,_ he’s not quite ready to say. It won’t come out quite right yet, and there’s so much yet to do. There’ll be time.

They’re quiet for a long time, letting Black’s presence surround them where they stand in front of her. Shiro’s not sure if Keith can feel her directly, or if he’s feeding off of Shiro’s bond with her, but he’s relaxing more in this moment than he has in weeks.

“I’m sorry I shouted at you.” It’s mumbled into his neck. Shiro’s concentrating on rubbing up and down Keith’s spine so he doesn’t hear it at first. When it registers, he sighs, ducking to rest his cheek on Keith’s head.

“I’m sorry too. You didn’t deserve any of this, Keith.” 

“I just feel so.. so..” he stops, but Shiro doesn’t push him. When he continues, his voice is timid. “So scared.”

“I know, buddy. Me too.” God, him too. The idea of sending Keith off to gather weird space materials from the gut of an actual monster is just as awful as the realisation that he’s taking two of his team inside a high-security Galra prison - somewhere he’d never planned on going again. He wishes he could take them all straight back to Earth and forget about fighting in a war, but that’s never been an option.

Keith turns his head, sinking further into Shiro’s hold. “You keep me going,” he whispers, like it’s a prayer he’s offering. It sounds a lot like a sentiment Shiro’s been scared to express, but it’s the realest thing he’s felt in years.

“You keep me going, too.”

He keeps stroking up and down Keith’s back, soothing them both with each pass of his hand. The tension drains out of him until he’s boneless against Shiro’s front, exhausted from the emotional roller coaster of the day and the stress of everything that has and is going to happen. Shiro shores him up as best he can, just as Keith has always done for him. They stand there together for a long time.

***

They take a nap in Black, where further in her corridors there’s a bunk and a small bathroom. It’s enough for the two of them to slide into sheets that probably haven’t been changed in who knows how long, but they smell clean and they’re soft.

This will be Keith’s lion someday, Shiro thinks as he lies down. He hates that he won’t be here to see him excel and hates that he’ll be taking him away from Red, where he finally feels at peace. But this is what he’ll need to do as their leader, and he’s more than capable of it.

But they’ll have some time before then.

Keith slots himself back into Shiro’s arms without being asked, like he knows this is the last time in a while they’ll be able to take comfort from each other in this way. He slings an arm around Shiro’s waist, tightening his fingers into his shirt.

His breath is warm against Shiro’s collarbone, softening as he slips into sleep. Shiro’s always amazed how Keith lets his guard down around him. He’s sweet, curled up here, letting Shiro see all the rough edges of him alongside the soft parts of his heart. He deserves this rest, this gentleness.

Because _stars_ Shiro loves him. He buries his nose in the crown of his dark head, staying there as Keith burrows closer. He deserves to know how much. Shiro will tell him, when this is all over, as many times as it takes for him to get it. After the battle with Zarkon, when they’re safe, he’ll make sure Keith knows.

Sure in his conviction, Shiro sleeps.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on twitter! [thimblee](http://www.twitter.com/thimblee)


End file.
